A mercurial brace: for one who seeks answers about the Dark.
"What is the Darkness?"
You open your eyes and gaze down at your feet, seeking an answer to your question.
You see that your boots have found purchase in a plain of shifting sands that burns white hot as it reflects scalding light from the heavens in this world full of L I G H T.
Staring directly at the ground, you avoid the worst of a bout of photokeratitis. The wind roars around you.
The shifting sand is all you see.
As you continue to stare, it occurs to you that the Tower might look similar if you stood still for long enough. And your boots, sheathed as they are in a thin veneer of Light, would stay pristine.
You smell a rotting stench.
A harsh glare blooms from the heavens above.
Something grips your hands, desperately shaking them.
Your soul is weary.
Your cloak billows in the wind, yet something clings to it, weighing it down.